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“But in a solitary life, there are rare moments when another soul dips near yours, as stars once a year brush the earth. Such a constellation was he to me.”
― Madeline Miller
_ _
The ship rattles and hums around him as it rockets through space - a soothing melody that he’s long grown accustomed to in the last five years. Technically, their little research craft is called ISA-1203930, but Taehyung dubbed it the Dragonfly two years in and the name stuck. It’s fast and buzzy and less fragile than it seems - their home away from home. Taehyung is the official pilot (and often able to coax incredible feats from their old girl - Yoongi’s lost count of the amount of times they should have crashed to their fiery deaths) while he serves as the mechanic. They both handle navigation and they bicker over whose turn it is to clean even though they hung up a chart months ago. They like the banter, the back and forth, like a fencing match: parry, riposte, and repeat until one of them concedes defeat.
A weird mating ritual, Namjoon called it once, nose all scrunched up but a smile stretching his mouth, and he isn’t exactly wrong.
It’s hard out here sometimes, though, just the two of them and the vastness of the galaxy for months at a time. They have to find some way to keep themselves entertained and sex only takes them so far, especially in such cramped quarters. His shoulder is still aching from banging it on a the post of the bunk beds while trying to ride Taehyung yesterday. That was embarrassing. Taehyung snickered for ages after he made sure that Yoongi was alright and Yoongi doubts he’ll live it down anytime in the near future.
They’re coming up on their next planet, though, which will mean several weeks on the ground, sleeping in tents beneath an alien sky. Yoongi can’t wait. Provided this world doesn’t have massive dust storms like the last one did. They only lasted a day and now, three weeks later, he still feels like he’s cleaning sand out of his mechanical left arm.
(Ah yes, the arm. He lost his real one to a carnivorous plant two years ago - one that looked almost exactly like Audrey from Little Shop of Horrors, if you can believe it - and now he's technically a cyborg. He doesn't really feel worthy of that title, though, since it's just an arm. It felt almost cliche, losing an arm. Taehyung says he's officially a comic book hero now, like Bucky Barnes. Mostly he just spends his days cleaning the damn thing and griping about things getting stuck in it and whining about having to repair it, but he's glad that Taehyung doesn't mind it. That it was Taehyung who encouraged Yoongi to touch him with it, after he'd healed from the surgery - guiding Yoongi's fingers to intimate places and saying gently, "you're still you, Yoongi.")
He rotates the arm with a grimace as he scrolls through their supply log. This will be their last planet before they have to return to the station and load up again. It'll be good to see the others, though: their fellow researchers, also split into teams - Jimin and Namjoon, Jungkook and Hoseok - and their requisitions officer and general Granter of Missions, Seokjin. They need some time interacting with other sentient beings besides each other and their onboard computer. (Which Taehyung has nicknamed Michelangelo because according to him they share the same prickly, contentious attitude. Personally, Yoongi wanted to call it Gladys but Taehyung insisted that would just be tempting fate.)
Speaking of the devil, Michelangelo's dry voice drifts through the speakers overhead. In French, because Taehyung's been trying to learn the language. It was Japanese last month and German two months before that - Taehyung picks up things fast.
"Taehyung-ah!" Yoongi calls up towards the cockpit. "What did he say?"
Taehyung's voice drifts back a moment later. "That we're a day out from planet OT 02102801 and we're behind on packing, as usual."
Yoongi snorts. They're always behind on packing, according to Michelangelo, who seems to regard them as barely one step above toddler when it comes to intelligence and capability levels. "We'll be fine."
OT 02102801, much like its designation, is supposed to be fairly boring. Exploratory satellite imagery shows jungle terrain with some deserts and a breathable atmosphere, if a little more oxygen-rich than they're used to. They're bringing filters with them, just in case, because dying of oxygen toxicity is not the way Yoongi wants to go out. They'll be there for two or three weeks to collect samples and then make the week-long trek back to their home station. Simple, which is what they more than deserve after weathering Dust Storm Hellscape and before that almost being buried by an avalanche trying to navigate Icy Hellscape and then before that almost getting eaten by horrifying creatures in Swamp Hellscape that satellite imagery portrayed as much smaller than they actually were.
It's been a rough three months, okay? Yoongi wants a fucking break.
Taehyung's footsteps clang against the metal ladder as he descends from the cockpit to join Yoongi in the main area. Throughout the academy, he dyed his hair a veritable rainbow of colors, but when landing on alien worlds with unknown atmospheres, it’s better not to have chemicals on your head, so it’s been a natural black for the last four years. He’s started growing it out a little recently, enough for it to sit in a small bun on top of his head.
"Hey, hyung," he says as he peers over Yoongi's shoulder at the supply list. "Everything good?"
Yoongi hums and nods. Of course it is. They keep a meticulous ship, in spite of Michelangelo's nagging. "We'll just need to load everything into the rover and we'll be set."
"Perfect," Taehyung says and rests his chin on top of Yoongi's head. Yoongi leans back into him - the solid weight of him. This easy intimacy took him a long time to embrace, but Taehyung wore him down, opened him up one careful touch at a time - until he felt like he was a flower blooming in the sun. "And your arm?"
“A pain, but that’s nothing new,” Yoongi says, dismissive and Taehyung tuts at him.
“At least let me give you a massage before bed, okay?”
That’s another thing he’s had to get used to: Taehyung’s determination to take care of him.
“Fine,” he says because Taehyung’s massages are bone-meltingly good and on special occasions lead to equally incredible sex. Taehyung kisses the top of his head, and Yoongi lets his eyes drift closed, lets them hover here for a moment, before he says, “we should start packing.”
Taehyung groans, loud and overdramatic, but steps back to let Yoongi up. Overhead, Michelangelo says something and Yoongi knows just enough French to pick out “lazy” and “incompetent.”
“Fuck off, Michelangelo,” he huffs. “You were my least favorite ninja turtle.”
Taehyung giggles all the way down to the storage hold, while Michelangelo grumbles over the speakers, and Yoongi forgets all about the ache in his shoulder.
_ _
Rewind, and Yoong is twenty years old and currently being hit on in a bar. It’s not even a very nice bar, it’s a dive where ISA cadets go to let off some steam in their incredibly limited downtime. There are sticky stains on the counter and the whole place smells of beer and piss and now there’s an annoyingly tall guy crowding into his space. He’s got a lot of muscles, too, an intimidating amount, and Yoongi tries not to feel trapped when Muscles causally leans against the bar, caging Yoongi in between him and a group at his back loudly doing shots.
Namjoon is supposed to be his buffer for things like this, but Namjoon is the worst friend ever and disappeared ages ago.
Muscles starts talking in heavily accented English that Yoongi struggles to comprehend over the noise of the bar. Something something “buy a drink” something something “pretty” something something something “sweetheart.”
“No thanks,” he says, hating that his voice naturally pitches higher when he speaks English and that Muscles has at least twelve centimeters and probably close to fifty kilos on him. “I’m fine.”
Muscles, unfortunately, doesn’t politely fuck off to find someone else to bother. He moves closer and puts a meaty hand on Yoongi’s hip like he has a right, tugging Yoongi closer to him with alarming ease. Air catches in Yoongi’s throat as he struggles to remember everything he’s been learning in combat training. His mind is stupidly, helplessly blank - wiped clean by panic - and he blinks up at Muscles as the man leans even closer, breathes hot over Yoongi’s mouth. He smells like beer and cheap bar food. Yoongi wants to vomit.
“C’mon,” he says. “Don’t be like that, sweetheart. One drink.”
Yoongi opens his mouth, not sure if he’s going to tell Muscles to fuck off or agree to a drink just to get some space, but another voice interrupts him. “Sweetheart! There you are.”
The new voice is deeper, lightly accented, and the man attached to it actually forces himself between Yoongi and Muscles, draping a proprietary arm around Yoongi’s shoulders and leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth. Yoongi catches a glimpse of electric blue hair in the corner of his vision, but mostly the room has started to spin a little - colors all blurring together.
“I’ve been looking all over for you,” Blue continues. He straightens and frowns at Muscles. “Is this asshole bothering you?”
“I was just-” Muscles starts, sounding flustered.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Blue cuts him off smoothly, tone pleasant but laced with an unmistakable underlayer of threat. “And I think you should leave my boyfriend alone now. Don’t you agree?”
Muscles grumbles, but does agree because he leaves, not just the vicinity but the entire bar. Yoongi watches him go in mild shock then turns to his savior. His first thought is pretty because holy shit, he’s not sure this person is an actual human being with a face like that. Can people just have a face that perfectly sculpted? Or, wow, an ass that good? And the blue hair ... he should look like a smurf - Yoongi would look like a smurf - but instead he's simply ethereal.
“Hey,” Blue says and his perfectly sculpted face scrunches into a boxy smile that somehow makes him even more attractive. “I’m Taehyung. Sorry about that. And kissing you without your permission, I was just trying to make it more believable. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Yoongi says automatically, a little embarrassed that he had to be saved. “I could have…” he realizes how stupid and pathetic that sounds so he swallows it back. “Thank you.”
Taehyung waves a dismissive hand. “It was nothing,” he says. “Though … can I buy you a drink? No funny business, I promise.”
“Are you gonna keep calling me sweetheart?” Yoongi asks dryly and is surprised when a blush steals across Taehyung’s cheeks.
“No,” he mumbles. “Not if you tell me your name.”
Oh. Right.
“Yoongi.”
“That’s a pretty name,” Taehyung says and sounds completely and utterly sincere. Now it’s Yoongi’s turn to blush.
“Yeah,” he says softly. “You can buy me a drink.”
_ _
He learns that night, that they’re both from Daegu. It feels like fate, doesn’t it? Taehyung asks and he can’t help but agree. He learns, too, that he’s two years older than Taehyung and jokes that Taehyung needs to call him hyung, then - even if they mostly speak English these days. He learns that Taehyung likes fruity drinks but doesn’t like being drunk so he has one margarita that he nurses the whole night. He learns that Taehyung is brilliant and strange and kind and excited to see the stars, even if he’s homesick.
And it doesn’t feel inevitable yet, this thing taking root between them, but it won’t be long before that changes. Not long at all.
_ _
For the first time in over a month, they have an easy landing planetside and he wants to personally thank OT 02102801 for that.
“Wow,” Taehyung says as the Dragonfly settles with a creaking hiss in the open desert. The sand doesn’t even shift and try to immediately swallow them, incredible. “That was actually really…”
“Don’t,” Yoongi cuts him off. “It was fine. Just the right amount of difficult. Don’t jinx it.”
“Right,” Taehyung agrees with a solemn nod. “Sorry.”
They peer out the front viewscreen together at the vast expanse of red desert on one side and the tangle of jungle a few kilometers away on the other.
"So,” Yoongi says, “what are we calling this one?”
Because Taehyung names every planet they land on - keeps them in a notebook next to their official designations, his own little private log (“ actually writing things down is better sometimes, don’t you think?”) - and sometimes Yoongi will offer suggestions, but it’s ultimately Taehyung’s call, per their long-standing unspoken agreement.
“Patience, hyung,” Taehyung says with a wink, unbuckling his seatbelt. “I have to get to know her first.”
Yoongi laughs and shakes his head, powering down the ship and mercifully silencing Michelangelo, who was in the middle of asking something - probably why they’re still sitting on their asses when they have a planet to survey. He’ll be coming with them in drone form to take pictures and store data, but they get a short break before they have to deal with him again. Next, Yoongi activates the auxiliary solar generator that will keep the shields and the invisibility cloak up, as well as sound an alarm if anything gets too close. There’s nothing like coming back to discover that small alien creatures have made nests in the vents and chewed up all the wiring. Oh, and that they spit poison. Super fun.
He does one more quick check through the ship to make sure that everything non-essential is powered down and safely stowed, then meets Taehyung by the ramp. He's already half in an envirosuit, shimmying the sturdy fabric up over his hips with a grimace on his face.
"I wish they made these more breathable."
"They are breathable," Yoongi argues with a laugh. These are the latest ones - made of some kind of adaptive material that regulates temperature to keep them from overheating or freezing, shields them against environmental toxins, is completely waterproof, and can stand up to claws or teeth or acidic poison. "You just hate them because they're not the size of a tent."
Taehyung sniffs. "Don't judge me for wanting to be comfortable. Clothes feel weird, and the less restrictive they are, the better."
"I'm not judging, I'm teasing," Yoongi says with an affectionate flick to Taehyung's shoulder. He dodges a retaliating swipe at his ass with a quiet laugh and picks up his own suit.
It is something of a process to get it on and get all the straps adjusted. A small oxygen tank fits against his back and there are pouches on his legs and chest for various tools and gear. He straps a stun gun to one thigh and a climbing axe to the other, then tugs on his boots and gloves. The helmet goes last, attaching to the collar of the suit. He blinks twice and the HUD flares to life, showing him his oxygen levels, his vital signs, and a several other helpful readings about the atmosphere and the structure of the suit.
"Testing," he says and listens to the comms crackle.
Then Taehyung's voice: "I can hear you. Can you hear me?"
“I can hear you,” he says, touching the side of his helmet to adjust the volume.
He glances over to Taehyung and can’t see his face through the opaque of his visor, but Taehyung gives him an enthusiastic thumbs up and it’s easy to imagine the smile that’s probably puffing up his cheeks. This is the best part, after all: setting foot on a new planet for the first time, and knowing that you’re the only human who’s ever been here and maybe the only one who ever will be - and you can drink it in for a few moments before anything tries to kill you.
Taehyung turns and hits the button to lower the ramp and machinery whirs around them as sunlight floods the loading bay. He’s grateful for his helmet filtering out the worst of the glare, especially since this planet has two suns that glow in its sky. They’re distant, though, further away than Earth’s is, and that makes the light have a hazy, ethereal quality. Almost like it’s perpetually twilight - everything bathed in gold.
“Wow,” Taehyung says over the comms as he moves to the edge of the ramp, peering out at the desert and the distant smudge of jungle green. “It’s beautiful.”
It is, but Yoongi’s not about to let his guard down. Every planet has been beautiful until poisonous things emerge.
Taehyung holds out a hand and his voice is teasing even through the slight distortion of Yoongi’s helmet speakers. “C’mon, Yoongi-yah, adventure awaits.”
“The disrespect,” Yoongi grumbles even as he twines his gloved fingers with Taehyung’s and lets himself be led down the ramp.
Wind coming off the desert buffets them, kicking sand up in spirals around their legs, and his boot sinks in to the ankle before he manages to right himself, finding his footing on the uneven ground. Tae sighs, long and crackling, and spins in a slow circle, drinking in the landscape. Nothing immediately swoops out of the sky or surges up from the sand so Yoongi lets himself relax a fraction. Really take in the scenery along with Taehyung. This world feels peaceful, in a way that the previous three hadn’t, and maybe the Universe really is giving them the break they more than deserve.
“My readings are normal,” Taehyung says. “Air is breathable.”
“Give it a little longer before you go ripping your helmet off,” Yoongi advises. He knows Taehyung hates how restrictive it is and the HUD tends to give them both headaches after a prolonged period, but they’ve also learned the hard way not to jump the gun and remove their helmets too soon. You never know when there’s going to be subtle toxins in the air that will make you throw up for three days after inhaling them. That was super super fun.
Taehyung predictably grumbles, but nevertheless complies, leaving his helmet in place. “So, desert or jungle first?”
After the last planet, Yoongi is more than a little sick of the desert, even though the stars are always incredible. “Jungle.”
“Good call,” Taehyung agrees. “Can I drive?”
“No,” Yoongi says as they start back towards the ship. If the Dragonfly is Taehyung’s baby, their land vehicle is Yoongi’s. He’s dubbed it Bumblee, to keep with the insect theme and because he liked Transformers as a kid, and he’s modified it extensively in the years that they’ve been doing this. It can handle almost any terrain, it has a solar batteries that can last for over a week, and best of all he doesn’t need Michelangelo to navigate for him.
“You never let me drive,” Taehyung whines.
“Because the one time you did, you almost crashed it.”
“That wasn’t my fault!”
“Yes it was!”
“How is a spontaneous avalanche my fault?”
“Because I warned you that we shouldn’t take that route and you didn’t listen. ”
“It looked safe-”
“It did not-”
“-and what’s life without a little risk, right, hyung?”
Yoongi snorts. “You’re still not driving.”
Taehyung makes a frustrated sound that crackles loud in Yoongi’s helmet, but he doesn’t protest any further, just climbs into Bumblebee's passenger seat. Yoongi slides behind the wheel and powers up the vehicle. A HUD flares to life across the windscreen, mimicking the readings from his suit about atmospheric conditions and weather, but it’s also programmed to predict terrain and help him navigate accordingly.
“Okay,” Taehyung says, back in work mode as he taps the touch screen embedded in his side of the dashboard and brings up more readings on the HUD. “According to calculations, we should still have about two hours before sundown, but we probably shouldn’t venture too deep into the jungle until morning.”
Yoongi hums in agreement. “We can make camp near the edge and go further in tomorrow.”
“I’ll watch the time,” Taehyung offers. “And stop you once we’ve been driving an hour.”
That will give them plenty of time to set up camp and cook dinner before they’re enveloped in total darkness.
“Copy that,” Yoongi says and, because they should be safe in the confines of Bumblebee, removes his helmet. Taehyung mimics him a moment later, sighing in relief. They’ve both tied bandanas around their heads to hold back their hair and Yoongi can feel that his is already damp with sweat.
“I hate these things,” Taehyung grumbles, setting his helmet at his feet and taking Yoongi’s from him, as well.
“Me too,” Yoongi agrees, mopping his forehead.
He pushes down on the gas pedal and eases Bumblebee down the ramp and onto the sand. Taehyung’s gloved fingers move over his touch screen and behind them, the ramp raises and the Dragonfly shimmers as the shields activate, then vanishes from sight.
“There,” Taehyung says. “Now let’s hope nothing bumps into it.”
Yoongi laughs and points Bumblebee towards the jungle, watching the green horizon grow larger and larger as they approach.
_ _
After that first night in the bar, they start seeing each other everywhere. Taehyung is in almost all of Yoongi’s classes, sitting near the back with a bored look on his face while the lecturer drones on. Yoongi never sees him crack open a textbook, even though he’s passing all the tests, and it’s mildly infuriating.
“I have an eidetic memory,” he says with a shrug when Yoongi confronts him about it.
“That isn’t an actual thing,” Yoongi protests. “That only exists on TV shows.”
Taehyung grins at him and winks and refuses to elaborate further. Yoongi suspects he’s cheating on tests, but doesn’t actually care enough to dig up evidence for it. Not when he sometimes cheats off Namjoon because the questions their instructors like to ask are ridiculous.
In contrast, Taehyung’s much more focused whenever they have simulations. He’s an excellent pilot and a decent shot with numerous different weapons, including a bow and arrow. He seems to come alive whenever he gets to work with his hands in a way that Yoongi can relate to. He tinkers with various engineering projects to relieve stress and Taehyung logs hours in the simulators and then in the test planes they fly over the desert.
Slowly, their friend groups coalesce into one unit of seven. Through Taehyung, Yoongi meets Jimin and Jungkook - all three of them in the same year and aiming to be researchers - and in turn he introduces them to Namjoon and Hoseok and Seokjin, watching with great interest as Namjoon and Jimin lock eyes and electricity seems to crackle between them (and then with even greater interest as the same thing happens between Jimin and Seokjin a moment later). They all bond over being Koreans surrounded by predominantly Americans (“It’s just because they have all these stupid deserts,” Jimin grumbles. “That’s the only reason ISA’s main facility is out here.”) and being far from home, missing their families and their familiar cities and authentic Korean food.
It’s nice and it eases some of the ache of homesickness and culture shock (English is a fucking ridiculous language and him and Namjoon have gone on several drunken rants about why it should be replaced as the international standard - make all these white people learn Mandarin or something instead). But the magnetic pull between him and Taehyung is unmistakable, even as they bicker and tease each other almost constantly. Hoseok groans about their months-long foreplay, but Yoongi can’t bring himself to stop. He loves the glint in Taehyung’s eyes and the smile in the corner of his mouth when he insults Yoongi’s age and clothes and hairstyle. The exaggerated pout that takes over when Yoongi teases right back. He loves that they can be quiet together, too - spending hours together in the campus library or one of their dorm rooms, listening to music and studying or just lying together. Taehyung tells him about his grandparents’ farm and Yoongi talks about the cafe his brother is close to opening, both of them unable to keep the pride out of their voices.
Looking back, he’s not even sure what finally crashes them into each other. Taehyung cheating too obviously? Being too reckless on a test flight? No wait, that was it. He crashed the plane - had to parachute out at the last minute. Yoongi ends up at his dorm room late in the evening, knocking loudly, and after a minute it slides open to reveal Taehyung with scrapes and bandages all over his face.
“You reckless idiot,” Yoongi spits.
“I’m fine, hyung, thanks for asking,” Taehyung says, jaw clenched and shoulders tense.
“You’re not supposed to almost die before we even get offworld!”
“I didn’t almost die.”
“Your plane was a flaming pile of wreckage.”
“That I wasn’t in.”
“You could have been.”
“But I wasn’t. My parachute just dragged me through the dirt, that’s it. I’m fine. You don’t have to worry so much about-”
And that’s when Yoongi stops listening and drags Taehyung in for a kiss. It’s not even really a good kiss, because Taehyung is too shocked to respond and has bandages all over his face, but Yoongi honestly doesn’t care.
“You’re insufferable,” he says when he pulls back, hoping to distract from the blush he can feel warming his cheeks and ears.
“Sure,” Taehyung agrees and fists a hand in the front of Yoongi’s shirt. “Of course, hyung. Come back here.”
The second kiss is much much better than the first.
_ _
“Fuck,” Yoongi sighs as Taehyung massages his shoulders and down his spine.
Taehyung presses a kiss to Yoongi’s hair and moves his hands to where metal and flesh merge on his back, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles. “Good?”
“So good,” Yoongi mumbles, tipping his head back to blink up at the ceiling of their tent.
It’s made from a similar material to their suits - waterproof, poison proof, heat and cold resistant, and with its own air filtering system. It’s also invisible if they want it to be, to keep too much curious wildlife from approaching. They can make it go transparent from inside, too, and Taehyung’s done that to the roof tonight, so they can see the distant glint of stars through the canopy.
“You should let me do this more often,” Taehyung admonishes, rotating Yoongi’s artificial arm carefully to work out on the stiffness in the mechanical joints.
(Okay, so it wasn’t a carnivorous, Audrey-like plant. It was a swamp monster. Wicked fangs, almost as long as Yoongi’s arm. It attacked their camp because their tents weren’t invisible back then, and dragged Yoongi outside by the arm. There was mud and water and a few minutes where he thought he was going to drown, but then there was a gun firing and Taehyung screaming and the land equivalent of Jaws ran off. Couldn’t save his arm, though, because it turns out that so many things in the galaxy are fucking poisonous and it was amputate or let the toxins kill him. It was an easy choice. He’s not that attached to his limbs, thanks. Plus he got to design the new arm himself.)
“I let you do it plenty,” Yoongi protests, voice a little slurred. “I don’t want to be a bother.”
“Taking care of you is never a bother, Yoongi-yah,” Taehyung says, pressing his thumb in a little deeper and kissing Yoongi’s other shoulder as Yoongi lets out a low groan.
Yoongi huffs, flushing at the sentiment. He’s never understood how Taehyung can just say these things, easy as breathing. Yoongi always has to shove them past an invisible wall in his throat and they emerge cracking and small, but fortunately Taehyung appreciates them anyway. Will grin warm and happy whenever Yoongi manages to mumble: “I love you” or: “You make me so happy” or even, during one especially drunk and sappy moment: “I wouldn’t want to traverse the galaxy with anyone else.”
“Stop,” he mutters now, squirming.
Taehyung holds him still. “No. I love you and I like taking care of you.” His arms go around Yoongi’s bare waist, pulling Yoongi against his chest. “I like that you let me do it, and I still think you should let me more. But I understand how independent and stubborn you are, and I respect that. And I love you? Did I already say that?”
“You did,” Yoongi says. “Twice.”
“Well you should say it back, then,” Taehyung teases and readjusts them gently so that he can rub salve along the seam of Yoongi’s metal arm, working it into Yoongi’s skin. “It’s only polite, hyung.”
Yoongi sighs at the tingling warmth of the salve seeping into his aching muscles. “Ah, I love you,” he mumbles.
It’s probably a little ridiculous that he has so much trouble saying this, even after they’ve been dating for years. But he’s been on his own for a long time - just his brother and him against the world, until he decided to give the world up for the stars - and he doesn’t think sentiment like this is ever going to come naturally. He’s eternally grateful that Taehyung doesn’t seem to mind, that Taehyung pushes him the way he does.
Taehyung laughs now, mouth against Yoongi’s neck. “There we go. Thank you.” He gives Yoongi’s shoulders one last squeeze and straightens. “Now we should get ready for bed. I wanna be the big spoon.”
Yoongi doesn’t bother to point out that Taehyung is almost always the big spoon, since he’s incapable of not cuddling something in his sleep and that something has been Yoongi for years. Even putting up pillow walls doesn’t help. The only time he gets a break is when they’re confined to single beds in the ship, but he doesn’t mind as much he says he does, and he’s pretty sure Taehyung can see right through his complaining.
They brush their teeth and change in sleep clothes and curl up on the cots that Taehyung has tied together to make a larger bed. Predictably, Taehyung immediately curls around him with a happy little sigh, nuzzling his nose against Yoongi’s cheek.
“Cat,” Yoongi grumbles affectionately and Taehyung actually licks his cheek, laughing at Yoongi’s outraged squawk.
“Pot meet kettle,” Taehyung says. “You’re even more of a cat than me.”
Yoongi can’t really refute that, so he settles for huffing and burrowing deeper into the blankets, letting Taehyung hold him as they both drift off to sleep.
_ _
Yoongi wants to say they wait until Taehyung’s various scrapes and bruises from the crash healed before falling into bed together, but they very much don’t. They’re hungry for each other, maybe more than a little desperate, and in spite of having to be careful of Taehyung’s injuries, it’s the most mind-blowing sex Yoongi’s ever had in his life.
“Holy shit,” Taehyung pants into the glowing aftermath. “Holy shit.”
Yoongi pushes his sweaty hair off his forehead, trying to get his own breathing back under control. He hates it, but doubt and worry are immediately starting to creep in, upsetting his pleased contentment.
“Holy shit, we’re so sexually compatible,” Taehyung continues, starry-eyed. He rolls over onto his side and gives Yoongi a huge, cheek-stretching grin. “This really is fate, hyung. It’s written in the stars, we’re meant to-”
“We can’t do this again,” Yoongi blurts out and winces as Taehyung’s face immediately falls into hurt confusion.
“What?”
“We can’t do this again,” Yoongi says, sitting up. The blankets pool in his naked lap. “Dating each other is against the rules.”
Taehyung laughs, derisive. “Since when do you care about the rules?”
“I care when they can get me expelled,” Yoongi snaps, hunching his shoulders. “Cheating isn’t an instant expulsion. Dating is. And I can’t just … I can’t be your fuck buddy, I’m sorry. I’m too invested for that.”
Taehyung is horribly, painfully silent and Yoongi finds himself babbling nervously to fill the oppressive stillness. “Besides, we’re not even going to graduate the same year. Or be on the same research team. We’ve got what, eight months left, and then we won’t see each other again for at least five years. Maybe ever. This isn’t worth it, Taehyung-ah.”
“I think it is,” Taehyung says quietly. “I think you are.”
“I don’t,” Yoongi argues, hating that he’s actually choking up. “This is … this is all I have. I can’t just throw it away. Not for you, not for anything.”
“You think I have anything, either?” Taehyung sits up now, too, hand curving over Yoongi’s shoulder. His grips tightens, like he wants to shake Yoongi but is holding himself back. “No one who joins this program has another life waiting for them on earth. My family’s gone. The farm is gone. But I lo-”
“No,” Yoongi cuts him off desperately. “No don’t say it. You can’t.”
Taehyung takes a deep breath. “What if we did graduate the same year? And ended up on the same research team? Would you be with me, then?”
No one would care, in the far flung reaches of space. Yoongi knows that, but: “Taehyung-ah, that’s impossible.”
“Would you?” Taehyung asks, gaze heartbreakingly earnest.
“Yes,” Yoongi admits, wiping at his traitorous, leaking eyes. “Yes, of course I would but-”
“So you promise?”
“I promise,” Yoongi says around the pain in his chest and the stone in his throat.
Taehyung leans forward and kisses him. It tastes like goodbye and determination all at once. “Good, I’m going to hold you to that, hyung.”
“Okay,” Yoongi says, torn between laughing hysterically and sobbing. “Okay.”
_ _
Yoongi wakes to an empty tent the next morning, which isn’t really a surprise. Taehyung is a morning person and he very much isn’t. He checks his watch with a low moan. It’s impossible to tell time on so many foreign worlds, so this one is designed to go off sun positions. It informs him, after a second of calculation, that it’s mid morning. Probably around the earth equivalent of nine a.m.
Yoongi sighs and hauls himself out of bed. Through the transparent tent ceiling he can see the golden-hued canopy stretching out overhead, and what looks like some colorful birds perched high in the branches.
He dresses quickly in his underclothes and envirosuit, then ventures outside. Sure enough, there is Taehyung, sitting on the ground by Bumblee with a bowl of steaming soup in his hands. He spots Yoongi and raises a hand to his lips, then points upwards. Yoongi follows the direction of his finger and freezes at the sight of a cluster of birds sitting in a row on a low-hanging branch, watching them curiously. They’re small and brightly-colored and possibly the most hideous things Yoongi has ever seen. (And he’s seen a lot of very ugly shit.)
They’ve got yellow and green feathers, with blue, knobbed scales along their foreheads and under their curved, sharp beaks. Black tufts stand up on top of their heads and their bulbous eyes are the same shade of sickly, vomit green as their feathers.
“The fuck,” Yoongi mutters.
Taehyung shushes him. “Careful, I think they’re poisonous.”
Of fucking course they are. Everything in this sector of the galaxy is poisonous.
“What?” he hisses, creeping over to squat next to Taehyung. One of the birds makes an awful croaking noise.
“I’ve been watching them for awhile and I think they’re capable of breathing gas? Those little things under their beaks look like sacs.”
“Great.”
“It’s not dangerous to us,” Taehyung insists, waving a placating hand. “At least, I don’t think they can breathe enough to really hurt us. They mostly use it to paralyze insects, from what I’ve seen so far.”
“I don’t trust birds,” Yoongi huffs, keeping a wary eye on the little fuckers still chilling on the branch. “Not since that one that tried to turn me into lunch.”
“She was trying to feed her young. It was sweet.”
“Feed them with me.”
“She thought you were a bug, it wasn’t her fault. And you scared her to death with all the screaming.”
“She scared me to death first, what with flying me up to a massive nest.”
Taehyung pats his head gently. “You were okay, though. And I think these little guys are cute.”
Another bird croaks. It sounds even more disgusting than the first one.
“Of course you do,” Yoongi says, unable to keep the affection out of his voice. Taehyung finds almost anything cute, even creatures with massive fangs or that are big enough to crush them to dust.
“Anyway, eat your breakfast, hyung. Then we should get going.”
“Bumblebee or on foot?” Yoongi asks as he inches his way over to where he can see his own bowl steaming near their makeshift kitchen, which is little more than a folding table with a cooking device on it. The birds track his movement.
“Maybe on foot first?” Taehyung says. “I want to move around.”
Yoongi gets his hands on the bowl just as one of the birds straight up belches and emits a wave of green gas from its beak. He curses and drops to the ground, clutching his bowl tightly to keep the food from getting poisoned.
Taehyung giggles as Yoongi glares up at the offending bird. “I’m watching you, you little shit.”
It blinks innocently.
Yoongi hates birds so much.
But fortunately, they don’t do anything else while Taehyung and Yoongi finish their breakfast and pack the cooking equipment back into Bumblebee. Taehyung swoops over with his helmet tucked under his arm and kisses Yoongi on the corner of his mouth.
“Since we won’t be able to do that for awhile,” he says in response to Yoongi’s questioning look, winking.
Yoongi laughs and responds with a kiss to Taehyung’s cheek, then fastens his helmet on, watching as the HUD flares to life and informs him that yes, those ugly little birds are 100% poisonous.
Fantastic.
_ _
They split up as they head deeper into the jungle, Taehyung taking Michelangelo with him - stuffed into his pack. Yoongi has his own scanner and camera, preferring to do readings and collect samples for himself, while Taehyung likes to have someone to talk to but wants to give Yoongi space to focus. Sometimes, he’ll mention an interesting creature or plant he’s come across, but other than that, they keep the channel closed.
But Yoongi loves this: wandering slowly through an alien planet. This one is lush and brimming with life. Massive trees that tower above him, three times the size of any on earth with roots that he can walk on like a road. Some have vines that glow in the hazy light, but he steers clear of those because he’s also learned from experience that you do not touch glowy shit without excessive scanning first. There are more birds perched on the branches, some of them fucking massive, but they don’t seem interested in him, chattering amongst themselves in a cacophony of chirps and warbles and screeches.
He thinks he sees a few big things moving in the shadows, too, but his scanner doesn’t catch anything. He still keeps his hand near his stun gun, just in case. The last thing he wants is some giant cat or bear-like creature to come barreling out of the trees and take him out - that’s almost happened a few times before, and he’s proud of how quick his reflexes have gotten over the last four years.
He takes photos and readings of the trees with their gnarled trunks, of giant ferns that wave in the wind, of the glowing vines, of a plant that seems to be tracking his movements, and another that lights up bright, incandescent blue when he touches it. He captures footage and readings of the various birds and a few reptile-like species he finds near a pond, including a lizard with six eyes that is mildly terrifying.
One thing he does notice about the flora is how young it all seems. Even the towering trees above him are all less than five thousand years old, which is a baby compared to some of the other ancient life they’ve seen on nearby planets. Did some kind of cataclysmic event happen and now the planet is growing back? He makes a mental note to come back to that later, especially when an insect the size of his fist lands on his shoulder and he has to swallow an instinctive yelp.
Much later, he comes out his focused haze when his HUD beeps, informing that he has three hours until sundown, and realizes that he hasn’t heard from Taehyung at all. Panic immediately claws at his gut, but he tamps it down and opens the comm channel.
“Hey, Taehyung-ah, are you-”
“Hyung!” Taehyung cuts him off and the panic increases when Yoongi can’t tell if he’s excited or upset. “You need to come here!”
“Shit, are you okay?”
“What? Oh, I’m fine.” Yoongi deflates in relief. “But you need to see this!”
Yoongi’s HUD beeps again as Taehyung sends over his coordinates. He’s only a few kilometers away - probably a half an hour trek, if the terrain isn’t too difficult.
“Okay, I’ll be there soon.”
“Hurry,” Taehyung says, and that’s definitely excitement now.
Yoongi bites his lip to keep the smile off his face, even if no one is around to see it. The birds would probably judge him if they knew just how whipped he is for Kim Taehyung and how little he cares about that. He’d trek halfway across a planet if Taehyung wanted him to and he’d have no regrets.
So he hurries as he much as he can while also clambering over giant roots. His suit comes equipped with a small jetpack that he also makes use of to propel him over the worst of the obstacles. It still takes him over forty minutes to reach Taehyung’s coordinates and when he does his jaw drops open.
Taehyung is standing in front of a giant building. Well, the ruins of one. The glowing vines he saw earlier have started to take over the stonework, which is crumbling in many places, but it’s intact enough for Yoongi to get an idea of the architecture: sleek and simple, but with unknown symbols carved into swirling patterns scattered throughout the stone front. It looks almost like … a library? Or an archive of some kind? The design is familiar, though. He’s seen it twice before in this sector: on Desert Hellscape and Swamp Hellscape, though the ruins there weren’t nearly this big.
When he gets to Taehyung’s side, he can see that Taehyung is practically vibrating with excitement.
“Precursor ruins,” Taehyung breathes, because that’s what they’ve taken to calling the alien race that built these structures (Taehyung’s idea, to keep with old-fashioned sci-fi tropes). “Third one in the last three months.”
“Yeah,” Yoongi says, blinking up at the building. Was this a whole city once? And where is that water sound coming from?
Michelangelo, floating above their heads, says something in French. Yoongi tunes him out as Taehyung takes his hand. “C’mon,” he says, flipping his visor up so Yoongi can see his grin and sparkling eyes. “Let’s go explore.”
Another burst of French. Taehyung waves his hand. “Ah, we’ll be fine. You said it was structurally sound.”
“Honestly,” Yoongi adds, because even though he’s slightly worried about being buried alive in alien ruins, he’s not going to pass up a chance to annoy Michelangelo, “you worry too much.”
“What he said,” Taehyung agrees and tugs Yoongi forward, leaving Michelangelo behind to grumble at them.
They reach the front of the building and Yoongi is surprised to see steps leading down, cracked and broken, but still solid. Taehyung flicks on his helmet light and Yoongi does the same a moment later, letting Taehyung take point as they carefully descend.
The steps open to a cavernous chamber, probably the equivalent of several stories, and Yoongi gapes up at the intricate ceiling, full of holes that let the golden light in. The source of the water sound is evident now: a small waterfall streaming down the wall of the back of the room, creating a pool that is probably slowly expanding, submerging more and more of the ruins with each passing year.
“Those are constellations,” Taehyung says, pointing at the ceiling and the lines painted across it. “Probably from this sector of the galaxy.”
“This looks like it was an archive of some kind,” Yoongi says, wandering over to what he thinks is a bookcase, extending from the floor all the way up to near the ceiling. It’s empty, the records long gone, and small, rodent-like creatures have made nests in the shelves.
“This is incredible,” Taehyung breathes, running his hand over the symbols etched into one of the supporting columns. “How old do you think this is?”
“Five thousand years, at least,” Yoongi murmurs, drawing on his readings from earlier.
At Taehyung’s puzzled look, he flips up his own visor. “Did you notice? All the flora in this jungle is relatively young, at least compared to neighboring worlds. And some of this,” he runs gloved fingers along one wall, marred with what he thinks are scorch marks, “doesn’t seem like natural decay.”
“You think there was a war?” Taehyung asks, crouching to peer at some of the symbols near the bottom of the columns.
“Or something.”
“I wonder what happened to them,” Taehyung murmurs, pulling out his camera. “And I wish I could read these.” He snaps a few photos. “Maybe Namjoon will be able to.”
Well, Namjoon does study ancient alien languages.
“Either way, he’ll like the challenge,” Yoongi says.
Taehyung straightens. “Do you think they died out?”
Yoongi shrugs. “Probably? Everything dies, right? Eventually. Even stars.”
“Wow, grim, hyung,” Taehyung teases.
“No, practical. Someday, other aliens are gonna be walking through Earth, looking at the ruins and going ‘huh, I wonder what happened to them.’ That’s the nature of things. Nothing lasts forever, no matter how much hubris it has.”
It’s been common knowledge for centuries that their planet is dying. Already, efforts are gearing up to colonize nearby worlds. In another generation, there won’t be anything left of Earth and they’ll all be galactic wanderers, in search of other homes among the stars. That’s always been part of why Yoongi decided to come to space. Not just the adventure of it, but the idea that he could be providing hope. That someday, humans could settle on the worlds he’s currently researching and he would have helped pave the way.
Or maybe, he just didn’t want to stay and watch the only home he’s ever known die.
Taehyung laughs softly. “We do have a lot of hubris, don’t we? One planet wasn’t enough for us. We needed the stars.”
“Maybe they felt that way, too,” Yoongi murmurs, peering up at the constellations on the ceiling and feeling a strange kinship with these long-gone beings. Were they looking to the sky, too? Trying to find a way off a world that was ending?
“Well, we’re all made of stardust, aren’t we?” Taehyung says. “Maybe it’s natural. This pull in us.”
“Or we’re just idiots,” Yoongi replies. “So entranced with the unknown. We climb mountains because they’re there. We build machines to get to the bottom of our own oceans because we can’t stand not knowing what’s down there. And now here we are, on whole other worlds.”
“It’s something I’ve always loved about us.” Taehyung dips his fingers into the dark pool of water, a quiet look of awe on his face. “Our curiosity. That we’re explorers.”
“Me too,” Yoongi admits in a whisper and gets an affectionate, understanding smile from Taehyung.
They’ve both always carried so much hope inside of them, about the stubborn persistence of life - like a small galaxy of their own, sitting in their chests. Yoongi fought hard for his, still has to fight on the bad days, but Taehyung’s been with him for so much of the journey.
“Thank you,” Taehyung says now. “For coming to see this with me.”
“Of course.” Yoongi bends down to carefully pluck a bright orange flower from where it’s sprouting between the cracks in the stone floor. “You’ve always been good at showing me beautiful places.”
He lets out a startled breath when a moment later, Taehyung is pulling him in, resting their foreheads together. It’s ridiculous, with their helmets in the way, but Taehyung is looking at him with so much love that Yoongi can feel himself melting. He shyly reaches up and sticks the flower behind Taehyung’s ear.
“That’d better not be poisonous, hyung,” Taehyung teases.
“It’s not,” Yoongi assures him.
They probably could have stood there, sappily staring at each other, for at least another ten minutes, but the ceiling groans ominously over their heads.
“Right, we should fucking go,” Yoongi says. “I don’t care if Michelangelo said this is structurally sound, I don’t want it coming down on my head.”
Taehyung laughs in agreement. “Hold on, I wanna get a few more pictures first.”
“Hurry,” Yoongi grumbles.
“You could help.”
So they split up to take pictures of the ceiling and the shelves and the waterfall and even the stone floor when they notice it has patterns, too. When they’re finished, Taehyung pauses to coo at the rodent creatures and Yoongi sighs, hauling him away with a grip on his pack. He’s not dying crushed beneath several tons of alien rubble, no matter how cute the mouse things are.
_ _
Yoongi tries to distance himself from Taehyung, in the months leading up to graduation, to spare both of their hearts, even though his feels like it’s constantly aching. ( Yes , he’s aware that’s melodramatic, but he’s never been in love before and he thinks he’s allowed, okay?) They still eat meals and spend time in their friend group, but the long evenings alone are gone and they’re painfully conscious about keeping their hands to themselves. Not letting glances linger.
It’s terrible and it hurts, but Yoongi comforts himself with the fact that at least he’ll have new worlds to focus on, the endless expanse of stars. That future is what gets him through all of his final exams and to graduation day. Namjoon, Seokjin, and Hoseok are all graduating with him and Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung all promised to attend the ceremony, even though they won’t be graduating for another year.
He’s in his dorm, fiddling with his uniform (there are so many buttons and pins and why the fuck are is it white? He’s terrified that he’s going to accumulate stains between here and the graduation hall.) when there’s a knock on his door. A familiar pattern, but he hasn’t heard it in months.
“Come in,” he calls, mouth dry, and sure enough Taehyung slips through the door after it hisses open. It takes Yoongi a moment to register that his hair has been dyed back to black and he’s also wearing a white uniform.
“What the fuck?” Yoongi blurts before he can stop himself and Taehyung grins.
“Did you forget it’s graduation day, hyung? You’re dressed for it.”
“No I didn’t forget, but you… why are you in uniform?”
Taehyung’s eyes widen with exaggerated innocence. “Oh did I forget to mention? I’m graduating, too. I passed all my final exams.”
Yoongi gapes at Taehyung in the mirror. “What?”
“Turns out things go a lot faster, if you decide to study sometimes,” Taehyung says with a wink.
Yoongi blinks, trying to comprehend this. Taehyung’s … graduating a year early? Taehyung’s graduating with him?
“But that’s not why I’m here,” Taehyung continues as Yoongi continues to stare. “I wanted to give you your graduation gift, just in case I didn’t have time after.” He fishes around in his uniform jacket and pulls a small tablet from one of the inner pockets. “Now, this isn’t public information yet, so keep it to yourself, okay?”
“Taehyung-ah … did you hack the academy?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” Taehyung says with great innocence and thumbs the tablet on. “But I would like to announce that Min Yoongi and Kim Taehyung - actually they have our names the western way but that sounds stupid so I’m improvising-”
“Taehyung.”
“Right, right. Sorry. I’d like to announce that Min Yoongi and Kim Taehyung are now members - the only two members, in fact - of research team Epsilon, which will be operating out of Station 7.”
“What the fuck,” Yoongi gasps, whirling around to face Taehyung properly, who is beaming back at him, radiating so much joy he’s practically glowing. “ How?”
Taehyung tucks the tablet under his arm and adjusts his cap on his head. “Well, the administrator in charge of assigning research teams has a dog that he loves literally more than anything else in the universe. It’s a Yorkshire Terrier, really cute - anyway, it went missing and I helped get it back for him.” A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, sly and beautiful. “I might have also been the reason the dog went missing in the first place, but that’s a minor detail. Oh and he was so grateful to have his dog returned, that he might have also agreed to station Namjoon, Hoseok, and Seokjin with us, too. And Jimin and Jungkook. Who are also graduating early because they’re super competitive and wouldn’t allow me to do all that insane studying by myself. Or graduate without them. So … surprise?”
Yoongi can’t believe this. It doesn’t feel real and he opens and closes his mouth a few times, trying to figure out what to say around the roar of his overflowing heart. “You’re … you’re impossible.”
“Hardly,” Taehyung says. “I’m just persistent. And smart.” His expression turns serious. “But you promised, hyung. If I graduated with you and we ended up on the same research team … so will you date me now? Because this was a lot of work. And also I’m kind of, like, ridiculously in love with you, which is probably the most important thing, right? Yeah, maybe I should have opened with that….”
He sheepishly scratches the back of his head, knocking his cap even more askew than it already was, and Yoongi laughs helplessly, stepping forward to wrap his arms around Taehyung’s waist, pressing his forehead to Taehyung’s shoulder.
“Yes,” he whispers. “Of course I’ll date you. I’ll date the shit out of you. And I also have … non-platonic feelings for you, too.”
“Oh really? Is it an L-word?”
“Shut up, impossible human.”
Taehyung giggles and rubs his back. “You’ll say it one day, hyung, don’t worry.”
“No, I won’t,” Yoongi mumbles mutinously, already knowing that he’s doomed.
“You will,” Taehyung says confidently and adjusts Yoongi’s cap for him. “But that’s not important right now.” He steps back and holds out a hand, eyes gleaming like they have stars in them. “C’mon, Yoongi-yah, adventure awaits.”
Yoongi laughs and takes his hand. “Hold on, one more thing first.”
He rocks up on his toes and kisses Taehyung, deep and yearning, sighing when Taehyung leans in. Kisses back with just as much feeling, his fingers digging like anchors into the back of Yoongi’s jacket, locking them together, chest to chest and heartbeat to heartbeat.
_ _
Back at the campsite, Yoongi realizes his metal arm is locking up and breaks out his tools with a resigned sigh. He feels a little ridiculous sitting at their little folding table with his glasses on and a lamp fixed to his head, digging around in his arm with a pair of tweezers to get all the grit out from the joints, but after weeks on a ship he wants to be outside as much as possible.
Taehyung hovers over his shoulder, gnawing on his lip in barely disguised worry. “That doesn’t hurt?”
“No,” Yoongi assures him, pushing the tweezers in deeper to get a stubborn piece of what looks like vine. “I can’t really feel anything in this arm, remember? It registers hot and cold and pressure but that’s about it. Shit just - c’mon, you fucker stop moving around - keeps getting stuck in it.”
Taehyung bites his lip even harder and Yoongi elbows him. “Yah, wipe that look off your face Kim Taehyung. We’ve talked about this.”
(Because, okay, okay fine. It wasn’t an Audrey-like plant or a Jaws-like swamp monster, it was a rockslide. Boring, right? A plain old rockslide. This is why he usually invents something more interesting. But you see, is isn’t about the rockslide. It’s that Taehyung was in the way of it, was about to get smacked in the head with something that would have crushed his skull, and Yoongi moved without thinking. Shoved Taehyung out of the way before his brain even caught up with his body, and then it was him on the ground with his arm buried, and pain, so much fucking pain, and he doesn’t really remember much after that. Taehyung refuses to talk about it, just like he refused to leave Yoongi’s side after Yoongi woke up in the Station 7 medbay with bandages and empty space where his arm had been.
And the thing is, Yoongi would do it all again - a thousand times, even if it means dying - and in that moment, between Taehyung and the rocks and oblivion, he feels like he understood love for the first time. The true, incredible depth of it. Why people call it the most powerful thing in the universe. He’d give up a hundred limbs for Taehyung, he’d die for him a million times.
In every branching universe, his choice would be the same.)
“I know,” Taehyung says now, reaching out to touch Yoongi’s shoulder. “I know we have, I just….”
Yoongi grabs his hand and presses a kiss to Taehyung’s palm. He’s not good with words, sometimes, but he can express his love like this. “It’s okay. It’s always been okay. It was … it was barely even a sacrifice, alright? You’re still here. With me. A stupid arm is nothing compared to that. This one’s cooler anyway, you said so.”
Taehyung’s eyes are suspiciously wet, but he smiles. “I did so, and it’s very cool.”
“I was thinking of upgrading it when I get back,” Yoongi says, biting the inside of his cheek as he goes fishing for another stubborn piece of grit. “Changing to a different alloy, smoothing it out so there’s not so many gaps for shit to get into.”
“Could you make it gold?” Taehyung asks, pulling up a chair. He’s supposed to be starting on dinner, but Yoongi figures that can wait. “Or wait, like blue or something?”
“Yah, I don’t want to stand out too much,” Yoongi admonishes, poking Taehyung with the tweezers. “Gold would reflect everything for fucking kilometers. Like a giant beacon. I’m here! Eat me!”
Taehyung laughs, loud and wheezing, and takes the tweezers from Yoongi, pulling Yoongi’s arm over so he can see. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to get eaten.”
“Glad that makes two of us,” Yoongi grumbles. “And you don’t have to do this.”
“My eyesight is better than yours, old man.”
“No it isn’t, you need glasses, too.”
“To read, that’s it.”
“Mine are for reading, too! And delicate shit, like this.”
“Fine, then,” Taehyung huffs and snatches the glasses off Yoongi’s face, putting them on his own. “You’d think by now they would have made laser eye surgery less expensive.”
“Right?” Yoongi grumbles. The ISA does provide free medical procedures for things like that, but only if someone’s eyesight is bad enough to impair them completely, not mildly inconvenience them like Yoongi’s does. He just has to give it a couple more years, he figures. He’ll get there.
Taehyung kisses his cheek and sets to work, tongue poking out adorably between his lips. “This is like that game,” he says after a few moments of silent concentration. “Operation?”
“Oh my god,” Yoongi says but he’s laughing. “Stop it.”
“What do I get if I win, Yoongi-yah?” Taehyung teases.
“Hmm.” Yoongi rests his chin on Taehyung’s shoulder, watching him work. “I could probably think of a few rewards, Taehyung-ah.”
The look Taehyung gives him is a reflection of the heat he can feel burning in his veins, but Taehyung just kisses the corner of his mouth and goes back to work, content with the promise of later. Yoongi sighs and lets himself relax, drifting with his cheek against the curve of Taehyung’s shoulder. He trusts Taehyung to take care of him, the same way he always has.
(They’ve always taken care of each other, they’re good at that.)
“Oh,” Taehyung says suddenly, dragging him out of his hazy contentment. “I’ve decided on a name.”
"Already?” he mumbles. Usually it takes Taehyung at least a week.
“Yeah. Demeter.”
“Demeter?”
“Greek goddess,” Taehyung elaborates, “of agriculture. The mother of Persephone. She represents growth, and the nourishment of the earth. This planet is coming back to life, you know? So I figured it was appropriate.”
“Demeter,” Yoongi repeats and glances up at the twisting trees, reaching for the heavens. “I like it.”
Taehyung gives him a pleased smile and bends down to pat the ground beneath them. “Hear that Demeter? You have a name now. We’ll get to know you better soon, too.”
In a nearby tree, one of those awful birds croaks, as if in answer. Yoongi collapses into laughter against Taehyung, shoulders shaking.
“It counts!” Taehyung protests. “Demeter heard me.”
“Of course she did,” Yoongi says when he gets himself under control. “She’s excited to get to know you, too, and hopefully nothing on her surface will eat us, poison us, maul us, or otherwise harm us.”
“Yes,” Taehyung says, now looking up at the trees. “Please, behave.”
The wind sighs through the branches, and that feels like an answer, too. Which makes sense, in a way. Taehyung often feels like magic, the stardust in his atoms closer to the surface than anyone else’s, and sometimes the planets they visit seem to know that and just … bloom for him.
Kind of like Yoongi does.
Tomorrow, they’ll take Bumblebee and explore more of this strange, recovering planet. But for tonight there is them and the jungle and the stars and Yoongi is content. Happy, even.
“Hey, Taehyung-ah.”
Taehyung hums and looks up at him, all tender affection that still manages to knock the air right from Yoongi’s lungs.
“I love you.”
“What a coincidence,” Taehyung says and leans in to press his forehead to Yoongi’s. “I love you, too.”